“Morning,” she said, with a yawn that rivaled Callie’s. “Coffee?”
“Sit,” I said. “But I warn you, my skill at making coffee before I’ve had coffee of my own might be lacking.”
“I’ll risk it,” Bridget said, filing through the door, Madison a step behind. Each carried their own mug.
“We kinda got used to using your espresso machine while you were gone,” Crystle said sheepishly.
“We thought we should give you time to acclimate before we started coming by in the morning,” Bridget said.
“Ah, so this isn’t a one-time early-morning visit?” I said, taking the mugs from her and Madison.
“Is that OK?” Callie said.
“It’s more than OK,” I said, handing Callie her mocha. “You have no idea how much I missed you guys while I was gone.”
“We missed you too,” Crystle said. “And we didn’t even know where you’d really gone.”
“Probably for the best,” I said. “Better you thought I was eating gelato and strengthening Gateways than fighting dragons.”
“You fought dragons?” Bridget said, her normally cool façade cracked by eyes as big as saucers. I must have glossed over that part when I first told the story. Who remembered? Last week felt like last year.
“Well, just one,” I said. “And it was a Root, so it wasn’t a real “dragon” dragon. Just a…demon dragon.”
“That does not make it less terrifying,” Crystle said.
“I’m pretty sure that makes it more terrifying,” Madison said, taking the cup I offered.
“Terrifying is getting more relative by the day,” I said.
The Institute was near bursting now that retired Keepers and Guardians had rejoined the fold. Some sought refuge from the influence of demons, all of them ready to help if they could.
The Elders had had a field day with Annys and Master Dogan over our experiment. Taren’s first patrol with Cara was set for tomorrow, so there had been no choice but to finally tell them. It would be one thing if a Dahrak came along willingly—maybe that could stay hidden—but what if they captured some? No way to hold a bunch of giant beasts captive and escape notice.
I didn’t get all the details, but from the way the other Elders had begun to step lightly and the set of Annys’s jaw, I had a feeling she’d ended up bringing them to heel. All of the Elders were smart, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that we were out of options—things were coming to a head, and fast. We needed to work with what we had.
“Ember?” It was Callie, peering at me over her mug.
“Yeah, sorry. Just got distracted,” I said.
“We were saying thank you,” Bridget said.
“Oh, for the coffee? You’re welcome. Come by anytime.”
“Not for the coffee,” Crystle said. “For hope. For a chance. Things have been bad here, Em. Really bad. Having you back, knowing that you’re here with us till the end—whatever the end is…”
I couldn’t say, “You’re welcome.” I was just doing what I had to—we all were. But I wanted them to know how much they meant to me—that they were part of the reason I was fighting so hard. What was the point of saving the world if you lost touch with the people who made it worth doing?
“Guys, I’d really, really like it if you came by every morning for coffee. It’s crazy and busy and it’s only going to get worse, and it means we’d all have to get up a little earlier—”
“Deal,” Callie said while the others nodded enthusiastically.
“Good,” I said. “Because I really did miss you, and I’m so glad to be home. But can you guys do me a favor?”
“Anything,” Crystle said.
“Tomorrow can you bring bagels? I’m starving.”
Later that day, after my shift at the Gate but before I’d gone to work with Cara and the others, I stopped in to see Master Dogan.
“So tell me about the ninth Gate,” I said, when he’d poured me a cup of tea.
As a general rule I hated tea, but not when Master Dogan made it.
He flashed a small grin that bordered on wry. “It seems you know more than I do,” he said. “Much like the origin of Dahraks, it’s location has been a mystery. Until now.”
“I can understand not telling the students, but why keep it from full-fledged Keepers and Guardians?” I asked.
“Tradition, I suppose,” he said. “The records indicate that over the centuries secret attempts have been made to find its location, never with any success. I can only speculate that the first Elders thought it best not to disclose our ignorance.”
“I think the time for secrets is over,” I said. “Are there any others lurking that I should know about?”
He shook his head. “If there are, I don’t know about them,” he said.
48
Before he would let Cole come out on patrol, Taren wanted Cole to learn the basic Guardian hand signals and assess his strengths as a fighter. I suspected it was more an attempt to show Cole who was in charge of the mission, but I kept my mouth shut.
I watched as Kat and Cole sparred, Taren studying them intently. What had begun as the unimpressed expression Taren usually wore around Cole turned into grudging respect. Cole could fight, and he didn’t need his Daemon powers to do it. Or so I thought.
“What about you?” Cole said, his tone just shy of taunting. “You can learn more about my skills by actually fighting me than by watching.”
Kat bit her lower lip to keep from smiling and stepped back. “He has a point,” she said.
Not one to back away from a challenge, and definitely not one offered by Cole, Taren picked up a short sword and took Kat’s place in the ring.
“I knew they’d wrassle it out eventually,” Kat told me with a wink. “I was just hoping there’d be oils of some kind.”
We settled onto the grass and prepared to be entertained. They were evenly matched: What Cole lacked in speed he made up for in raw strength, and Taren held his own, dodging blow after blow, even landing a few of his own.
What started as fascinating grew boring after a while. Neither was going to win, and neither was going to give up.
Finally, Kat rose to her feet and said, “OK, enough already. We get it, you’re both perfect fighting specimens. Did you get what you needed, Taren? Are you confident that Cole can hold his own in the field?”
Taren, dripping with sweat, backed away and tossed his short sword to the ground. “Yeah. I’m good.”
Cole sheathed his broadsword and said to me, “I thought you said he didn’t have Daemon abilities.”
It was Taren who answered. “What are you talking about? With the exception of being able to communicate with Ember, I have zero Daemon skills.”
“You sure about that?” Cole said.
Without warning he took the stick he’d been idly twirling and swung hard for Taren’s head. Before I could cry out, Taren’s instinct kicked in and he blocked the blow, inches from striking him.
“Quick reflexes don’t make me a good Daemon,” Taren said, annoyed. “I’m good at reading the intentions of my opponent in their physicality.”
A rock came sailing toward Taren from behind, and he ducked just in time for it to avoid him and roll to the earth.
“Then explain that,” Cole said. “I didn’t move; there was nothing for you to read.”
He was right, he hadn’t moved, just used levitation. Somehow, Taren had known the rock was coming. Kat’s eyes widened in surprise and maybe envy.
“It’s true, the Daemon part of you is only a trace,” Cole said. “But that trace has saved your life on more than one occasion, I’d wager.”
“What are you saying, exactly? I can’t move things with my mind—believe me, I’ve tried,” Taren said.
He made no effort to hide his lack of disappointment. He had been grateful not to have to give up being a Guardian for life as a Keeper.
“No, I think your strength lies in telepathy. That’s the way of it, we all are better at on
e or the other. The strongest can be proficient in their weaker talent, but there is always a clear strength,” Cole said. “For someone untrained, like you, the skill will usually show itself in moments of intensity. Like when you are fighting—or anytime your fight-or-flight response is active. Right now you have the briefest of windows, just a split second before your opponent makes his move. With practice, you might be able to widen that window.”
“Really?” Taren said, awed in spite of himself.
“Oh my God, that’s so cool,” Kat said. “You’d never lose a fight. You’d know exactly what they were going to do and be able to counter it.”
“And perhaps even influence it,” Cole said.
“That kind of seems unfair,” Taren said.
I looked at him, eyebrows raised. “So, Mr. Noble, if I’m fighting a demon, do you want me to worry about playing fair?”
“Good point,” he said. “So…will you teach me? Show me how to do whatever it is I’m doing, but better?”
It must have been like chewing glass to say those words, but I was proud of him, and hoped it would begin to smooth things over between him and Cole.
I hoped that right up until Cole said, “Of course. I can’t have the person watching my back not know what he’s doing.”
“Where are the Pop-Tarts?” Kat said, wrinkling her nose at the cabinet stocked mostly with rice and pasta and the fridge with nothing but fruits and veggies.
Cole had worked with Taren on being more Daemon for another hour, and then our stomachs got the best of us and I offered to make dinner. Cole declined, opting instead to spend more time with Cara. He was deeply invested in her rehabilitation.
The kitchen in the dorm had already closed, and the Guardians’ private kitchen was located past the Sanctuary boundary, which Kat avoided except when necessary, so we found ourselves alone in the Keepers’ lounge.
“Relax,” I said, pulling a box of pasta from the cupboard. “Vegetables aren’t going to kill you.”
She sniffed, unconvinced. “All I’m saying is that whoever stocks the Guardians’ kitchen understands the importance of simple sugars.”
“We Keepers lead a slightly more sedentary lifestyle,” I said.
“Not you,” Kat said. “Not anymore. I’ve seen you running the loop around the compound.”
“And sparring with a quarterstaff,” Taren said. He was more than pleased that I had another means of self-defense. Less so that it had been Cole who’d taught me.
“Yeah, well, in the demon world, there wasn’t the luxury of choosing only to fight with your mind or your body,” I said, whacking a garlic clove to get the peel off.
We continued chatting while I made a simple dish of pasta with vegetables and olive oil. Taren set the table while Kat reclined on the sofa.
“Dinner is served,” I said, realizing this was the first time I’d ever cooked for Taren, and suddenly getting nervous. Mom always said I was a great cook, but her judgement was biased, and, let’s face it, suspect.
“OK, I admit it,” Kat said after her first mouthful. “It’s almost as good as Pop-Tarts.”
“Perfect,” I said. “That’s exactly what I was going for.”
“It’s delicious, babe,” Taren said, leaning over to kiss me on the cheek. “Thanks for making dinner.”
When we’d finished, Taren cleared our plates while I went to sit on the sofa. Kat plucked an apple from the bowl of fruit on the table and chucked it at the back of Taren’s head.
He knocked it aside, causing it to land with a thump on the floor. “Seriously,” he said, full of exasperation, “you have got to stop doing that.”
She’d been flinging stuff at Taren since Cole’s revelation.
“Sorry, bud,” she said, plopping down in a chair and crossing her legs on the coffee table. “But that is never gonna get old.”
“You’ve got to admit—it’s pretty cool,” I said.
“I don’t hate it,” he said with a sly grin and joined me on the sofa.
He draped his arm around me and I rested my head on his shoulder.
“You two are going to make such cute Daemon babies,” Kat said with a grin.
Taren cleared his throat and pulled his arm from around my shoulder while I straightened up. There was no doubt we loved each other, but babies? Kat knew the mere thought freaked me out.
“Would you get your mind out of the gutter?” I said, then socked her with a pillow from the sofa.
“Now that wouldn’t get old,” Taren said.
“Aw, you’re both so sexy when you blush,” Kat said. “Now, what’s for dessert?
Dessert would have been fresh fruit, and Kat took a definite pass, leaving Taren and I alone to eat sliced peaches. Despite her fondness for packaged foods, I knew Kat actually loved peaches, which made me think she’d left just to give Taren and me some time alone. Between my shifts at the Gate, shifts with Cara and the other Daemon/Dahraks, and Taren’s patrolling schedule, he and I were almost never alone. The best we’d done in the past week was a few stolen moments in the woods, which had led to some great kisses and a few sleepless nights spent reliving them.
“You’re a good cook,” Taren said when we’d settled onto the sofa, his arm draped around my shoulder.
“You and my mom agree on something,” I said, smiling.
“We agree on a lot of things,” he said.
“Oh really?” I said. They didn’t fight, and I knew my mom appreciated how protective Taren was of me, but there was an underlying tension between them that I suspected stemmed from my mom’s misguided belief that if I hadn’t met Taren, I wouldn’t need protecting.
“Sure,” he murmured, kissing my ear, then my neck. “We agree you’re amazing, and beautiful, and smart, and precious…”
His lips found mine, and instead of just hearing his words, I felt them. He loved me. It really was in his kiss. The way he held my face with both hands. The way he answered my sigh of happiness with a moan of his own.
In high school—the one in the Valley, not the one at the Institute—I’d kissed boys because I desperately needed to belong—to someone, anyone. I thought that if I was hooking up with a guy, then I wasn’t a completely messed-up outcast, because he saw something in me. But it never worked; the boys never really saw me, and I always ended up feeling more alone than I had before we’d ever made out.
Taren didn’t complete me or anything corny like that, but he was a part of me, and I was a part of him. And that was more than enough; it was everything.
The knowledge of how profoundly I’d changed settled deep into my bones and I gasped, my eyes flying open.
Taren’s eyes opened in surprise and I babbled, “This is really bad timing, because I really, really want to keep kissing you, but I think I just figured out how to save the world.”
49
“It’s just… Ember, we’re not you,” Crystle said. “We can’t save the world.”
I’d sent Taren to get Master Dogan, who’d taken to sleeping in his office while I’d rounded up Bridget, Madison, Crystle, and Callie. I’d mentally woken Cole—who’d been more than comfortable taking up residence in one of the tents that dotted the Institute grounds—and told him to meet me in the meditation yurt.
“Yes, you can,” I said, more convinced than ever. “Look at Callie. Her new kitten, Oscar. He was skinny as a rail and covered in fleas when you found him. You saved him, didn’t you?”
“Yeah…but he’s a cat,” Callie said, stroking the orange ball of fur in her lap. “Not the whole entire world.”
“Of course he is,” I said, my conviction growing with every word. “What else is the world but the creatures that live in it? We’re all trying to save the world all the time—even if it’s just our little piece of it.”
“That’s a powerful sentiment, Ember,” Master Dogan said, “and I don’t disagree. To a point. But history—”
“None of that matters anymore,” I said emphatically. “It doesn’t matter how it used to be. It
matters how it is. And how it is—how it’s going to be—is changing. Right now. Look at Crystle’s Mark and tell me that things aren’t different. Why can’t it be for the better?”
They all wore blank expressions; even Taren didn’t meet my eyes. I began pacing, looking for a way to make them understand. “During the time that man and Daemon lived in harmony, it was Daemons who guided the evolution, right?”
I got some nods of agreement.
“So why shouldn’t it be that way now?” I asked. “Who says that telepathy, telekinesis, or any other power is strictly the domain of Daemons?”
Crystle said, “You want to teach us how to become Daemon?”
“Not quite,” I said. “You’ll still be human. But who’s to say you can’t be taught to do what I can do?”
“It doesn’t work that way,” Cole said, shaking his head. “Daemon power is innate; humans just don’t have it.”
“Maybe not,” I said. “But we know where there is power. A lot of it. And you yourself said, all it needs is a channel.”
Cole looked at me thoughtfully, and Callie blurted out, “You mean that you could teach us to access the Chasm!”
“I think it’s worth trying,” I said, and gave Master Dogan a meaningful look.
There were risks to what I was proposing. Daemons had become Dahraks using the Chasm, but that didn’t mean humans would. There was no way to tell how it would affect them unless we tried it. We’d just have to be very careful and be honest about the potential danger.
Michele had been so quiet that I had almost forgotten she was there. She’d been spending a lot of time in the meditation yurt, and had been there when we arrived.
“This is a wise plan,” she said. “Why shouldn’t man evolve? Become more of who he is? And Daemons helping? That was always the way. Why shouldn’t it be again?”
Whether it was her words, her tone, or a little Daemon mind trickery, her words held weight. Heads began nodding, a few smiles even crept onto faces that a moment ago had been doubtful.
The Gateway Trilogy: Complete Series: (Books 1-3) Page 55
